


your frayed ends all tied up

by MistressKat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I can get out of this,” Sherlock says.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	your frayed ends all tied up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pushkin666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/gifts).



> I was in the mood to write pornlets so pushkin666 gave me some prompts. This one was ‘John/Sherlock + bondage’.

“I can get out of this,” Sherlock says. His gaze skitters over the rope that criss-crosses his torso and arms, securely held behind his back.  
  
“Yes,” John agrees placidly. He’s coiling the excess slowly, taking care to straighten and untangle the rope as he loops it over his elbow and hand.  
  
Sherlock shifts restlessly, knees digging into the hardwood floor. “I just need some time,” he says, flexing his muscles, testing the give. There is very little. John is good at this. “Not too long if I’ll dislocate both shoulders,” he adds, like that’s nothing, like he would do it without a blink of an eye.  
  
There’s a part of John that wants to watch that. But not tonight.  
  
“I know,” he says, acknowledging the truth they both know. Sherlock could get out of the bindings. But that’s not the point. “There’s an easier way though,” John continues.  
  
Sherlock blinks, his attention turning inwards for a few seconds as he no doubt reviews all available options, looking for the one he’s missed. John almost feels like smiling. Almost.  
  
“No there isn’t,” Sherlock says, eyebrows drawn together. Even shirtless and bound, kneeling by the bed, he looks just like he always does: annoyed, arrogant, impatient.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
“You could just ask,” John reminds him, voice gentler than Sherlock probably wants to hear but he can’t help it, doesn’t have the kind of control Sherlock has.  
  
No, John’s control is of another type entirely. “Do you want to safeword?” he asks and watches with fascination the way Sherlock’s eyes flicker this way and that, the minute tremor that racks his body, pale belly pressing against the black silk of the rope. There are probably hundreds of other signs that John fails to notice and at times like this he wishes he had Sherlock’s gift for detail, just so he wouldn’t miss a single one.  
  
It takes a while, but John can wait for this. It’s always worth it.  
  
Finally, Sherlock shakes his head mutely.  
  
John exhales, reaching out to touch. “Alright then,” he says, fingers grazing Sherlock’s throat, just on the pulse point, the skin over Adam’s apple stretched translucent and slick with sweat. “Let’s begin.”


End file.
